


"Little" Brother

by FatlockFills



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bellies, Fat Characters, Fatlock, Humiliation, M/M, Mutual Weight Gain, Weight Gain, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:13:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatlockFills/pseuds/FatlockFills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is finally fatter than Mycroft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Little" Brother

"Now, now." Mycroft’s voice was prim and proper as he leaned close to Sherlock’s ear. The younger Holmes could hear the sharp hiss of pronunciation, crisp and clean as the tape measure pressed flat into his skin. "Sucking it in isn’t going to save you now, Sherlock. Breathe." 

Sherlock sighed, and released his core. His already round stomach bulged out a couple inches more, and he could hear the intake of breath from behind him as Mycroft had to loosen the tape around his gut to give him more room. Sherlock’s cheeks were burning, and he hummed as Mycroft read the number and scratched it into the pad. 

"Very good," the elder Holmes said, pacing around to stand in front of him, on the other side of the bathroom scale. "You’ve certainly come along nicely." His fingers were thicker now, but his hand still looked neat and elegant as he patted Sherlock’s bare stomach. He was naked for the weigh in, stomach hanging low enough to hide his cock, and Mycroft’s hand was warm on his fat as he praised him like a well fed hog. Mycroft was clothed, of course, his own ample gut downplayed by a perfectly tailored suit. Sherlock didn’t even have a towel to hide his size. Though, a sheet would do a better job at this rate. 

"Is the theatricality really necessary?" Sherlock glared at his brother, chubby cheeks making pouting much easier these days. He’d never intended to gain any weight; he’d simply longed for caring, for touch, and Mycroft had provided that. Being fed to groaning and then packed off into bed, smothered with sex and affection and love. He’d thought he could do it once a month, perhaps. Stay fit and trim the rest of the time. But Mycroft was too warm, too tempting. A month after their first time, he’d packed on a stone and was having difficulty buttoning his trousers. 

Mycroft smirked, and waited. Finally, Sherlock sighed and got on the scale. “What’s the number?” he said. 

"Can’t you tell?" Mycroft’s voice was all innocence, and Sherlock glanced down at his pale dome of a belly. Seeing his toes was long gone. He sucked in, abdomen clenching, and pulled his belly in a few inches. He still couldn’t see. He relaxed as Mycroft chuckled and scratched the number onto the pad to track his progress. Mycroft left the pad on the counter, and slipped his arms around Sherlock, pulling him tightly against him. Even with his current irritation, Sherlock felt a sudden rush as his belly was pressed against Mycroft’s, feeling the excess they both enjoyed bouncing and heaving. Mycroft’s breath tickled his ear as he said, "315, "little" brother." 

Sherlock’s eyes widened, and he pulled away. “But. But you’re only 295.” 

Mycroft smirked. “That’s right. I think we’ll have to celebrate, won’t we? A cheesecake would widen the gap between us considerably.” He poked Sherlock’s fat condescendingly. “Or close the one between your thighs. Both are good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt received at fatlock.tumblr.com: 
> 
> Anonymous said: Holmescest. Sherlock's weight finally surpasses Mycroft's.


End file.
